


vacation all i ever wanted

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Cousy RomFest 2k17, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Drinking, Eating, F/M, Flirting, Framework, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Nail Polish, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sexual Content, Sexual Identity, Trust Issues, Vacation, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Daisy and Coulson vacation vignettes, written for Cousy RomFest 2k17 - DAY 6 · 1 April, vacation





	1. something familiar

"What is that?"

She sets her ridiculous drink, with the froofy umbrella, down on the bar and sighs as the breeze from the nearby ocean hits her.

He could mean just about anything, but, he's asking very casually, and that probably means that Watchdogs aren't storming the beach towards them.

In fact, they're sitting close beside each other, very close, and all of this is sort of a new development.

When he leans in closer, rather than explain his curiosity, she gets very still and manages to smile up at the bartender, who is watching them with a kind of amusement.

"That smell," he adds, finally, not getting too _too_ close. "I can't place it."

She nods a little, and turns the straw in her drink, closes her eyes for a moment. "It's you."

He sits back at that and looks down at his t-shirt, like he's trying to discover the source.

"No," she huffs to hide her laugh, and brings the straw to her mouth, takes a long draw from it. "It's what you smell like every day. I...borrowed it."

His lifted arm drops to rest on the bar, tilts his head at her, and the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes are making her wonder if she's discovered another wall she hadn't anticipated.

"I forgot my shampoo," she reminds him. "You said ,'What's mine is yours', or something. _In Spanish_."

He smirks a little at that. "I was trying to impress you."

"Showing off," she smiles, with a raise of her eyebrow, and she bumps her shoulder against his.

Sitting back from her, he relaxes on the stool and makes a small sound, not disapproving or approving sounding. More like he's arrived at an answer.

"It smells different on you." He reaches for his own froofy drink and takes a sip of it.

"It's...nice," she agrees and meets his eyes behind the sunglasses for only a moment, his pleased expression, as they both lift their drinks and dedicate themselves to sucking on the straws.

She swears she did pack her own shampoo. When they arrived it was not inside her overnight bag. She had packed in a hurry, though.

After sort of ordering him to take leave, as acting Director. Testing the whole orders thing between them. Which is just weird.

More as friends, or colleagues, or awkward people who have lived through Hell together and need a break but don't know how to ask.

And then he sort of asked if she wanted to come along, too.

"I guess I smell nice," he says.

Usually she's good at reading through or behind or around whatever he's saying. Or not saying.

The Framework, though.

It made some things that they had not been saying abundantly clear. They just haven't discussed it on the flip side of that.

Which makes her think that's why he included her in his beach trip. They haven't checked their phones for exactly ten hours now.  

Five of which were spent sleeping, or trying unsuccessfully to sleep in, for her part.

This place looks like a brochure, though. The neat beaches and white tents for all the tourists.

A place you're supposed to go to relax.

"Do you like this drink?" she asks him, as she gets to the bottom of hers, thinking how it's become too sweet near the end.

He stares at the glass in front of him, then shrugs. "Not really."

"We could go into town," she suggests. "Explore our options?"

"Get you your shampoo," he offers, raising his hand to the bartender to get the check.

"Got it," she laughs, with a roll of her eyes, and pushes her barstool back into place. She's sure his shampoo is expensive, just like this resort.

"Familiar," he tells her, setting the pen down and thanking the bartender in Spanish.

Then he stands and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Something familiar."

 It makes her think about their time in the Framework, running, and that as horrible as that place was, she never felt closer to him.

Maybe he wants that as much as she does?


	2. I come bearing gifts

They unpack again in the small apartment after taking a walk through town.

Even with its own hammock in the courtyard, and a tiny side yard, very private. Sure, it's not all-inclusive. It feels like a home, it was recommended to them by the corner grocer who knew it hadn't been rented for the week.

The resort felt safe, and this still feels safe, because it's Coulson after all, but also less controlled, less expected.

Sitting around at the beach wasn't really going to help either one of them unwind. And the lack of privacy, even though she knows he had the best of intentions, wasn't working.

She turns the grocery bag onto the counter and watches the fruits roll out of it as he grabs one before it goes rolling off the edge.

Then he sets her bag off his shoulder onto the kitchen table, and she thinks to herself that this feels familiar.

It's hard not to compare things that were real and unreal, and imagine different possibilities after being in the Framework.

They can hear the life of the town going on outside of the walls around them, and it makes her feel settled more than the stillness, the artificiality, of the resort.

He puts things away out of the bags, quietly sorting them, and sets her shampoo and the nail polish down beside each other at one end.

It seems that he keeps looking back at the blue of it, like there's a reference point for it. One she doesn't know.

_Yet._

They still both have some walls left, unsure of how to navigate this now, and she's hoping that rest and a little time will allow them to come down.

She needs him, after all. She tried not to, but she needs him to help make this work. It's all of the pieces working together, not a solo act.

That's not her way of doing things.

"I can get started on dinner," he tells her, opening the tiny fridge and putting the shellfish and meats inside.

"Sounds good. I'm going back out," she replies, putting her hands on the house keys on the counter. "I'll be back in awhile?"

He gives her a curious look, because they were just out. They walked around all over the town and talked about the places they wanted to revisit.

"Okay," he nods, as she puts a hand on his shoulder before she goes.

Then she leaves out of the gate entrance and heads back to the dessert shop they had passed earlier.

She knew he wanted some of the expensive chocolates, but didn't want to make her feel made uncomfortable by another conventional, seemingly extravagant gesture.

He wanted them for himself, though. She knows. And since they're doing this together, she thinks he should have them.

It can be a surprise for after dinner, and it also feels good to be doing something for him, instead of feeling like somehow all of this is for her.

She can't be the only one who is confused by what happened in the Framework. Their relationship there didn't have all of the strictures she's used to.

Being careful when it comes to him has always been important to her, because she's never had someone like Coulson in her life.

Also knowing how much she means to him, that it wasn't just as SHIELD, but it was something else entirely.

Her friendship, _or_ , something more intimate, that she has felt between them, but could never explain. Now magnified by them no longer playing the parts they had always played.

Agent or Director or Super Hero.

The shop lady remembers her, and tolerates her really bad Spanish while she orders some of the ones with caramel and sea salt sprinkles on top, thinking about how he had just been standing outside the shop, not long ago, describing the flavors together and pretending that he could get them anywhere.

The woman puts them in pretty bag that is hand stamped and folds it over.

As she says goodbye, she spots someone selling flowers across from the shop and decides that she's not going to worry about how it looks.

Coulson deserves flowers, too.


	3. impetuousness of youth

Well, she did ask.

He's sharing with her the story about the first time he wore nail polish, and enduring her teasing laughter.

Not because it seems so unreal -okay, maybe it does a little- but that he's being so hesitant about it, like she might not enjoy listening to him talk this way for hours.

And also, they're on their second bottle of wine. Not that she gets drunk easily with her metabolism, but she feels drunk.

Or what if it is just the way she wants to feel and her body believes it, too?

She pushes the puzzling logic of the Framework aside, and tries to calm herself.

Now he's making an awful face that's almost a pout, so she gets up off the couch and then goes to where she hid the chocolates and produces them for him.

His eyes light up instantly, and now she wishes she had given Coulson chocolates before, instead of the other way around.

"These were expensive," he reminds her, taking the bag with his prosthetic and then opening the paper folds with his other hand.

"The flowers, too," she grins. "Those were also for you."

"What? You don't like flowers, either?" he asks in disbelief, and actually has the nerve to try to offer her a caramel first.

She flops down onto the couch next to him, and pushes his fingers back towards his mouth. "They're fine, Coulson."

He looks at her like she's a bit of a puzzle, and then takes a bite of the candy, making a face that is probably going to make her blush.

"Let's get back to you wearing fishnets, though."

He raises his eyebrows and sits up a bit, licking the chocolate remains from his thumb. "Hey, I was in my late teens. It was Rocky Horror."

"You have nice legs, I'm sure you were adorable," she sighs, propping her elbow up against the back of the couch.

He pauses to peer at her, then reaches into the bag again to get another chocolate out.

"Not even curious?" he asks, trying to sound persuasive.

She is very curious, but she feels her cheeks get hot, and wonders how odd he must find all of this. She's seen where he grew up, she knows things about him she wasn't ever supposed to know.

Instead she lifts her wine glass and takes another drink, hiding behind it, while he considers the chocolate, and probably her weirdness.

Does he think she's hitting on him, because of the flowers and the-

"This is nice," he says, sucking on the ends of his fingers again, and she wishes he would stop doing that, but not really. "Nicer than most of the dates I've had."

"We're well past the awkward dating phase, if that's where you're going with this," she huffs, and shrugs her shoulders to make a joke of it.

His eyes hold hers for a moment, and then he laughs nervously, tries to hide his smile, reaching for his wine. "Since you mention it, it is-"

"In reverse," she cuts in, now that he wants to talk about this. "From what normally happens. With me."

Setting the wine glass down, he turns his whole body on the couch to face her, wanting her to know that she has all of his attention.

"It's been confusing, at times," he admits, then his eyes get wider at her expression. "Not what it is," he reaches out to touch her arm, lightly. "Where I should put it. What to call it? I don't know."

He looks almost shy as he glances up at her, like he's just afraid as she is to mess this up.

"I know," she answers.

Luckily, she still has the impetuousness of youth on her side.


	4. closer to you

  
"Let's just see," she says, finding his mouth again with hers. "Where this goes?"

He's been kissing her back and trying to ask her something at the same time, but never quite getting it out, until her hand lands on the clasp to his belt and he stops.

"I feel bad that we skipped the date," he finally admits, through hushed breaths.

Letting go of the front of his shirt, she sits back on her legs on the couch, watches him bite at his bottom lip.

She knows this about him, how he wants to steer it back towards something proper, that something about this is bothering him.

"I'm moving too fast," she tells him, after a moment, touching her hand against her forehead, starting to go through the catalogue of how many times she's done this.

"No," he sits up, and leans forward to touch her arm, and then her face, so she'll look at him.

"I should've asked you out. I shouldn't have made you have to do all of this. Stay in that resort. Come all the way here."

"I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing, Coulson." She looks at his mouth again, frustrated by his reddened lips. "Don't you want to do exactly what you want? For once?"

That's what it is, she realizes, his expression startles at the words, too. They are careful, but they both have reasons why they're this way.

"Yes. I always wanted for things to be simple," he tells her quietly. "But they never are."

That's something that sounds familiar, so familiar that it scares her.

"Like _me_."

He frowns at her, like he's almost angry for her saying that, or for him making her say it, and then takes her wrists in his hands, and looks down at her hands, staring at them.

"No. Not like you. For you. I wanted things to be simple for you. It's not your fault. After everything-"

He wants too much, just like she does. At least, that's what they've been telling themselves.

In the Framework, everything was simpler, but it was all wrong.

Shutting his eyes, he sighs.

"Help me."

She's not sure what he's asking for, exactly, but it might be easiest to start with something simple.

"Ask me out."

"I-" he pauses, licks his lips and then swallows. "Daisy. Will you go out with me?"

"No." And she shakes her head at his bewilderment. "We've already had dinner together, and I fell from ten thousand feet with you in Lola. I don't know how anything else could be more romantic."

He seems like he's shuffling through memories, thinking on specifics as if they're taking on another context with her suggestion.

"What else?" she asks, before he digs too deep into his thoughts.

"What do you want?"

It's still hard to put it into words, exactly. It's a struggle, so she finds the only words she needs.

"Closer," she tells him, leaning into him, touching her forehead against his.

"I want to be closer to you."


	5. that settles that

She runs her hands over his bare legs, feeling her fingers sift through the hair.

Coulson is hairier than she imagined. Also, a lot sexier undressed, which is not something she was fixated on, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

His leg tenses under her hand and she glances up at him, sees the way that he's watching her from where his head is tilted on the pillow.

Then she pushes his knee down against the bed and hops on it, leaning forward to hold the bottle of polish in one hand until she is settled and has his foot in her hand.

They've been looking at scars, remembering old wounds and talking about them.

There's a lot of guilt bound up in some of them. The one on her shoulder where another version of him shot her just before she went into the Framework.

Unscrewing the top she sets it down on the bed and holds his foot as she tells him to be still.

The blue is swiped across his big toenail, and she concentrates to try to keep it from getting messy, but it's so much harder to do it on someone else.

This means something, though, that he trusts her to see the parts of him that are complicated.

It was not just the Rocky Horror picture show, it happens. It was a lot of other times, and very specific ideas.

And unfortunately, they're not the same size, or she might be able to help him out, but she can tell he leans forward by the way the bed shifts under her.

Feels the warmth of the palm of his hand on the skin of her back. Safe.

Then she quietly goes through them, blowing on each toe, finishes with the pinkie toe and blows across them all, and arches her back against his hand.

Into his touch.

His breathing comes out like a gasp, and she sits up, sitting back on him, feeling his fingers move up her spine between her shoulder blades.

She pushes back against his obvious erection to encourage him as he unclasps her bra.

Handing back the bottle of nail polish to him, she slips out of it the rest of the way, and tosses it off the bed.

"Almost done," she tells him, reaching back for the bottle, which he hands over with a sigh as she leans forward to do the other foot.

He mutters a curse word under his breath when she deliberately brushes her breasts against his leg, as she grabs his ankle, and tells him to hold still.

Instead he puts his hands on her hips, and grinds up against her, getting a high pitched groan as a reward.

"Daisy," he sits up and draws his leg closer, carefully, and gathers her against him, pressing his mouth against her shoulder. "Later."

She puts the nail polish away, quickly, and closes her eyes when his teeth graze her neck and his hands are full of her breasts.

"What do you want?" she asks him.

"To be closer to you," he sighs into her ear, and then slides his hand down her stomach, underneath the edge of her underwear, and feels his fingers between her legs.  

Careful, at first, and then finding her so wet, it even surprises her.

Gasping when he pushes one inside, then her small frustrated noise has him turning her onto her back, sliding her up the bed until he has her thighs around his face.

He lifts her legs up together, her underwear slid up them to hold them in place, and he pushes his tongue flat against her, holding onto her hips to ground them both.

She feels a sound rise in her chest, something she's always held back.

Instead she twists her fingers in his hair, then he's inside of her.

And everything is focused on her.

There's a small voice inside of her telling her to hide, to make it easy on herself and let it be about him.

He stops and pulls her underwear up and off the rest of the way, and tosses them off the bed, then gives her a determined look and sets her knees apart, and settles back down between them on his elbows.

Okay, she thinks, smiling to herself.

That settles that.


	6. my treat

  
"Mmm."

That's what Coulson sounds like when he's delighted.

His fingers are in her hair in the very narrow shower, running the shampoo through it, and he breathes in deeply against her in a way that seems both somehow erotic and very domestic all at once.

"We still have to finish off that wine and chocolate," he tells her has he kisses his way along her neck.

"For breakfast?" she asks, turning in the space and fitting her arms in between his to give him some freedom to move.

"We're on vacation," he tells her, leaning in to kiss her on her wet forehead.

"I need more than that," she tells him, and then slips her hand lower, between their bodies, and he groans a little and drives his hips towards her hand.

"Even after last night?" he complains, sounding a bit smug, and she smacks at his arm above the band where his prosthetic docks.

She rinses her hair out and watches him, at the way his eyes take in the movement of her breasts, watch her lick the water from her lips.

"Okay, point taken," he agrees and moves forward to kiss her.

Their mouths meet and then she pushes him back a little by the chest, puts her arm around his neck and draws both of their bodies up against the other.

He's holding onto her one-handed and she can tell his frustration as their bodies slip, and she lets go and then tells him to turn and reaches for the shampoo.

She pours the cheap scented stuff into her hand and then works it into his scalp, scraping her nails along it.

The water runs down his back as he tries to lean in the space, and it's at least enough to make the mental note of how great his ass looks wet.

While his hair is rinsing, he blindly finds her hand, and draws it around his hip, guiding it to his growing erection, moving his hand with hers up and down the shaft.

He leans back against her, and crooks his neck so he can moan into her mouth.

They did a lot of things together last night.

A lot of it was talking.

She's assertive, more than she realized, and it makes sense why her past lovers always felt intimidated by her. Especially with her powers, it made her feel like a freak to be strong or too intense. Like she should hide who she is.

Coulson doesn't see her that way at all. He trusts her, he likes that she knows what she wants. He likes helping her have it. He likes her powers.

It feels so good to not have to hide, and Coulson's face looks like he's floating on a cloud when she manages to get to her knees and push him up against the wall.

Her tongue runs up along the shaft, then circles the head as he grows rigid against her bottom lip.

It only takes a few twists of her wrist and then she uses her powers, carefully, and he's arched against the wall of the shower, coming, as she licks gently while his hips finish jerking.

Maybe she won't always want to feel in control? They can probably work that out, too.

"Let's go out for breakfast," he tells her, with a satiated smile. "My treat."

He helps her with his hand to her feet and then he leans in and gives her a sweet kiss, and runs his hand along her wet hair.

She turns off the shower behind him, and brushes the droplets of water from his forehead with her thumb.

They step out of the shower and he hands her the tiny towel, starts to wrap it around her body.

"I kind of feel like one of those drinks with the umbrellas," he admits. "Just hanging out at the beach?"

"I can do that," she agrees, drying off. "A little shopping after?" she adds.

"Sure," he answers, with a grateful smile.

She kisses him on the cheek, as he hugs her from behind.


End file.
